


Helps to relieve the mind

by neutralgrape



Series: Press play don't walk away [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dubious Consent, Episode Related, First Time, Guilt, Healing Sex, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Parent/Child Incest, Playmating, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:43:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2807960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neutralgrape/pseuds/neutralgrape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We knew it was coming soon," Carl said, not meeting Rick's eyes. "I think it might start tonight."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helps to relieve the mind

**Author's Note:**

> I watched up to 4x09 and wanted to write this before I watched any more, so I'm not entirely sure what happens in the rest of the season yet. Don't tell me.
> 
> Title is from the lyrics to Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye because that is the kind of person I am.

"A hundred and twelve ounces of pudding," Carl said, rueful, and Rick laughed quietly, wheezing through the hole in his side. Carl turned his eyes down and started picking at a hole in the hem of his shirt. "I found some toys, too," he mumbled, and Rick stopped laughing.

"Your heat," Rick said, numb.

"We knew it was coming soon," Carl said, not meeting Rick's eyes. "I think it might start tonight."

Rick cursed under his breath. Without a heat partner, Carl would be incapacitated for nearly a week. Probably more, since this heat would be his first. They would have to gather enough food and water, barricade all the entry points in the house, set up perimeter alarms. And injured as he was, Rick was in no condition to do any of it.

"I don't think I found enough food for us to last my whole heat," Carl said in a scared voice. "I should have saved the pudding, but I was so hungry, Dad. I ate all of it."

"Hey, hey, it's all right," Rick said pulling Carl in for a careful hug. Carl buried his face in Rick's chest. "It's natural. Your body's just telling you to store up energy before your heat. That's good, you'll need to keep up your strength." He stroked his palm down Carl's back, trying to soothe him even while his mind struggled to figure this one out. "A gallon of pudding is a pretty good start, actually."

Carl's answering laugh was wet and a little broken.

 

* * *

 

Carl was eleven when he presented as an omega. Lori placed him in a weekly playmate group that met on Friday afternoons after school. He always came back home dazed and pink in the face, the dopiness lasting through breakfast the next day. Saturday morning cartoons were the only thing that perked him back up.

Rick picked Carl up from his group only once, coming in at the tail end of the session. Small clusters of two or three kids Carl's age and a little older were still rolling around on the mats under the watchful eyes of adult beta chaperones, practicing how to do the real thing until their first heats arrived in a few years. Carl was down on the mats, presenting clumsily on his hands and knees, head cradled in the lap of an alpha girl. Another alpha a little older than Carl was behind him, rolling his hips against Carl's ass, completely graceless and frustrated to tears by all the layers of clothes between them. Rick hid a smile in his fist and picked up a National Geographic from the magazine rack while he waited.

Carl stumbled out after a little while, clothes askew and lips bitten pink, trailed by the two little alphas he'd been playmating with. They pushed at each other, trying to scent Carl's hair before the other one, but they both scattered when Rick walked up.

"Hey, Dad," Carl murmured, eyes hazy. Rick laughed quietly and scuffed a hand over the back of Carl's head and down over his neck. Carl leaned into it with a quiet noise, still floating on a cloud of hormones let off from the tussling down on the mats. God, what a stink.

"Let's get you home, buddy," Rick said.

By the next week, Rick was in a coma.

 

* * *

 

When the people from Woodbury had settled into the prison and Rick finally felt like he had the time to take a much-needed breath and focus on his family, he realized that Carl probably needed a playmate, and soon. He was growing up too quickly, limbs growing coltish and starting to fill out in the shoulders from his daily chores. His first heat was probably a little way off, but Carl hadn't been playmated in over a year at that point; he needed to be put back on track, or else his omega instincts would be all over the place when his heat came. Rick had heard nasty stories about what happened to kids in their first heat who weren't properly playmated when they were younger—they didn't know how to present, how to read their heat partner, what to do with their knots. It was supposed to be a tough experience, and Rick didn't want anything like that for Carl.

Unfortunately, there were no alpha kids Carl's age in the whole prison. That Patrick kid was a beta, and had no idea how to playmate an omega. The stilted conversation that Rick had with Carl about preparing for his first heat was one that neither of them enjoyed, but they both agreed: Rick would offer Carl's heat contract to Daryl.

When Rick pulled Daryl aside to make the offer, Daryl accepted immediately. "It means a lot to me that you'd trust me with your son, Rick," Daryl told him, solemn. "I'll take care of Carl, I promise."

Daryl claimed an unused cell set slightly apart from the other cells in the block. He declared it the Playground, until the younger ones started demanding access; after that, he renamed it the Study Room to keep them uninterested. It worked.

When Daryl invited Carl to their first playmating session, Rick went along to chaperone. Stepping inside the room, he saw that Daryl had feathered the nest a little. He'd dragged in two unused mattresses and covered them with blankets and some pillows. A few layers of curtains were strung up at the entrance to block out as much sound and prying eyes as possible. A solicitous bottle of water and a small pile of mostly clean cloths sat primly next to a stool pushed into the far corner of the room.

"Do you have to watch?" Carl grumbled.

"I trust Daryl, but you still need a chaperone," Rick said. "I know how pushy you can get. Daryl here needs someone to look out for him."

Carl scowled at him, but the expression dropped off his face when Daryl put a careful hand on the back of his neck. Carl's lips parted on a silent gasp and his pupils dilated hard as his eyes lost focus.

"Do you wanna leave the hat on?" Daryl asked Carl with a small grin. "I don't mind, but it might get in the way, is all."

Carl fumbled the hat off his head and waved it at Rick without looking at him. Rick took it with a laugh and settled on the stool to wait. He pulled a paperback from his back pocket and started to read, breathing politely through his mouth.

 

 

 

"You all right?" Rick asked afterward, looking Carl over with a careful eye on the walk back to their own cell.

"mmhmm," Carl murmured. He was disheveled, dazed, and happy. Daryl had said goodbye to him back at the Study Room with a friendly forehead tap, a small grin full of promise, and a nuzzle at his neck that pulled a squeak from Carl.

"So, Daryl?" Rick asked him.

"Yeah," Carl said, voice a little dreamy. "Daryl works."

Rick didn't have the time to chaperone every playdate, but he trusted Daryl not to take things too far if he was left alone with Carl. After a few more sessions of chaperone duty, Rick moved the stool outside the room right next to the curtained-off doorway to get away from the overpowering smell of what was going on inside. There was a reason that licensed playmate chaperones were betas: they couldn't scent the reek of alpha and omega hormones.

Rick knew that Carl hunted Daryl down sometimes to drag him away and make time outside of their playmating sessions. Everyone living at the prison probably caught them at it eventually, because they just weren't subtle. Rick had walked in on them himself several times in random corners of the cell block, or around shadowed areas of the yard: Carl pressing Daryl into a wall, his fingers hooked into Daryl's shirt or his arms flung around Daryl's neck, hat lopsided as he leaned up to listen while Daryl talked quietly to him, rutting up against Daryl and panting.

Carl was safe with Daryl. From what he'd seen, Daryl never cornered Carl, and always gave him space to back out if he wanted to. Not that Carl ever seemed to want to, from what Rick could tell. His first heat was probably going to hit sooner rather than later, judging by how frequently Carl began to chase Daryl down just so they could scent each other. Carl was clearly embarrassed by how much he needed it, but by the time they finished their quick little ritual—faces dragged across each other's neck, one, two, and a follow-up bump of foreheads—he was usually too blissed out to care. One day, Daryl let Rick know that he'd stockpiled a few days' worth of food and water to keep in the Study Room, preparing for when Carl's first heat came, any day now.

But then people started getting sick.

And the Governor came back.

 

* * *

 

"There's a bedroom on the first floor that you can use. That way I won't need to go up and down the stairs if I need to leave you more food and water," Rick said. He sat on the floor next to Carl, both of them leaning back against the couch as Carl ate his cereal.

"Dad," Carl said quietly. "It's not going to work. I won't be able to leave the room for a week, maybe more, even with the toys. You're still hurt. You can't go out for supplies. You need to—"

"I'm not leaving you behind unprotected while you go through your first heat," Rick said flatly.

"That's not what I was going to say," Carl protested. "And...anyway, you can't even walk the ten steps to the fucking street, where the hell would you go?"

"Language," Rick barked hoarsely, and that was when someone knocked on the door.

 

 

 

Their reunion with Michonne was cut abruptly short when she grabbed Carl up in a fierce hug but stiffened on a sharp intake of breath a moment later.

“Yeah,” Carl said, pulling away and wiping an arm across his eyes. “It’s coming on soon.”

Michonne cupped his face in her hands, then pulled him in for an even tighter hug. "I'm so sorry, Carl. Can you..." she craned her head around as if she could see through the walls of the house. "Maybe the family who lived here left behind some toys? I can go out, check all the houses, look for food while I'm at it."

"I found some toys, actually," Carl said. "But now that you're back, I have a better idea."

"Carl!" Rick growled, appalled. "You disrespectful little—"

"I'm not asking Michonne to be my heat partner," Carl cut in, pulling away from Michonne and looking from her slightly pinched expression to Rick's scowl. "I'm asking you, Dad."

The only noise in the shocked silence was a wet rattling noise as all the air left Rick's body.

"You can't be serious," Rick croaked.

"I've done the math, Dad. Even with the toys, I'd be stuck in my heat for a week without D— without someone else." Carl faltered, but squared his shoulders as he continued. "We don't have enough supplies to last that long. But this way, my heat's over in two days, three at most, and then we can move on. The neighborhood is pretty empty, so Michonne can keep watch on her own for a few days, maybe even look for more supplies if she thinks it's safe enough. Also, I can heal you up."

It took a moment for Rick to realize what Carl was talking about. During a heat, something in omega hormones could trigger super-accelerated healing in the alpha—part of the biological alpha drive to protect their omega heat partner at their most vulnerable. Minor injuries like small cuts, mild burns, even sprained muscles routinely disappeared during heat mating without any noticeable toll; but the more severe the injuries, the deeper the body had to tap into base alpha instincts to push the healing factor into overdrive. Alphas with bad enough physical trauma lost more and more control to their pure biological urges, sometimes turning violent, until the body decided it was healed enough.

"But—look at me, Carl. My body's being held together by dirty rags and dried sweat. I have a hole in my lung, my leg's busted, my hand, my face...to heal all this, I might have to go so far deep I wouldn't know my own name anymore."

"Dad, you need to get better, and I'm gonna go into heat anyway. There's no point in wasting this opportunity." That sounded rehearsed, like Carl had practiced sounding as reasonable as possible.

Rick tried to think of arguments to throw back at Carl, but his head was swimming too hard. "But...what about Daryl," he said lamely.

Carl scowled. "Dad, if it weren't for the walkers, Daryl wouldn't be the one helping me through my heat either."

"This is _worse_ , Carl!"

"I know," Carl said, looking down. "And it's not the only choice we have. But I think it's the best one."

" _In what fucking godforsaken world is this the best choice we have?_ "

"This one, Dad. The one we're living in right now, where you can't walk to the next house over without passing out. The one where you're gonna get eaten by walkers because you can't run fast enough. You need to heal, but we don't have time to wait for it to happen on its own."

"What about—What about Michonne? If she's willing to, to help you out," Rick tried, turning his head around to look at her desperately. She had been a totally silent witness for this entire conversation.

Michonne didn't flinch. Her jaw hardened like she was about to say something, but Carl spoke first.

"No," Carl said, voice flat. "I can't get pregnant, but Michonne can. I'm not doing that to her, not after Mom."

"I'm willing to take the risk," Michonne cut in. "Carl...this is wrong. It's _wrong_. He's your _father_."

"I know it isn't right!" Carl shot back. "But would my dad be able to protect us if walkers got close while we were sweating out my heat? I don't think he could even stay awake to keep watch, and he definitely can't go out to look for food. I've been thinking this over since before you got here, Michonne. Dad's been running a fever for over a day. His wounds are infected, and we don't have antibiotics. We don't have enough food, water, or time to wait out Dad's wounds or my heat, nevermind trying to wait out both of them. I learned enough from watching Hershel to know that my dad's going to die without help. But I can burn the infection out of him overnight. Dad," Carl said, meeting Rick's eyes, pleading, "I can heal you. Let me help. Let me save your life, and you'll be helping me too."

Rick stared at Carl, at his _son_ , and felt something break and give inside himself. Carl was right; Rick could feel the infection in his blood, leeching away his strength faster and faster. If he left Carl to deal with the full length his first heat alone, Rick would be dead before it was over. His face twisted and a sob bubbled up in his throat, but he swallowed it down. "Fine," he croaked, covering his face with a hand. "Fine. If you're sure."

Michonne closed her eyes, expression pained. For a moment she looked like she was on the verge of tears, but she took a steadying breath. "If I think I hear things getting out of control, I'm stepping in," she said. Carl started to protest, but she cut in sharply. "No, Carl. It's for your protection. I'm breaking things up if I think I need to. I just promise I'll knock before barging in."

"Michonne's right," Rick said, and Carl's expression went mulish. " _Carl_. I don't want to hurt you. If we're gonna do this...it won't be worth it if I end up hurting you."

"Fine," Carl gritted. "If that's what it takes."

Decision made, Carl and Michonne went on a final run for supplies before it got dark. Rick lay on the couch with his gun across his chest and stared at nothing.

 

 

 

Michonne and Carl helped Rick limp to the bedroom on the first floor, supporting his weight between the two of them. Carl had spent the last hour setting up the room, his heat scent beginning to warm and rise the whole time. He had put food and water in the corner, nailed sheets and an old quilt from the upstairs bedroom over the window. Extra blankets and pillows sat at the foot of the double bed, neatly stacked and folded. A small electric lantern that he'd salvaged from the house's basement was placed on the floor.

His son was going to have his first heat in some dead family's guest bedroom. With his own father.

"You can still change your mind. Either of you," Michonne said, interrupting Rick's thoughts. She held herself apart from Carl, breathing through her mouth carefully.

"I think we're all set," Carl said firmly.

Rick sat on the edge of the bed, feeling empty. "All set," he echoed.

Michonne looked at him for a long, steady beat, both in warning and moral support. She closed the door behind her without saying another word.

Carl didn't waste any time, helping Rick take off his clothes gently but with a fair amount of building urgency.

"I'll be on top at first until you're healed enough to give it to me on my hands and knees," Carl said, and the matter-of-fact way his son was talking about this wrenched something in Rick's chest. He looked away as Carl worked on taking off his own clothes. He left everything in a pile on the floor near the door, hat dropped on top.

It had been hard to ignore Carl's heat scent before, but now that there were no more clothes in the way, the smell hit Rick full in the face, impossible to avoid. Hating himself for it, he breathed it in, sweet and dizzying, feeling it go straight to his cock, making him light-headed. He realized that he'd closed his eyes when he opened them up to see Carl right in front of him, naked and hard.

" _God_ ," Rick choked out, and covered his face with his hands, dropping his head between his knees to fight off a wave of nausea. He gasped over and over again, feeling like he couldn't breathe, but he ended up taking in huge lungfuls of Carl's scent, overwhelmingly good. Rick didn't have to take his hands away to know that he'd be face-to-face with his own hard cock if he opened his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Carl whimpered, suddenly on the other side of the room. Rick jerked his head up. "I'm sorry I'm going into heat, I'm sorry I want it so much. I can't help it, I'm just—" Carl stopped, shuddering.

"Hey, Carl, no," Rick said, reaching both arms out in an attempt to soothe him. Carl took a hungry step towards him but flinched back. The look on his face was desolate and broken, his scent souring with misery. "Carl, this is not your fault. You are so brave for offering this, you just...you shouldn't have to do it. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be," Carl choked out.

Rick swallowed hard. "It's not too late. If you want, we can still stop."

The destroyed noise that Carl made told Rick that he had said the wrong thing. "I take it back, we'll keep on going," he backpedaled quickly. "Here, sit down next to me," he urged, stretching out on his back, taking care with his leg and the holes in his chest. After a few tense beats, Carl came closer and crawled onto the bed, kneeling back on his heels. Rick swallowed at the hungry glances Carl shot down at his cock, eyes skittering away before coming back again, his scent surging each time.

"Can I touch you?" Rick asked.

"Yes, please," Carl whispered.

Rick reached up and put a hand on the back of Carl's neck, and the effect was instantaneous: tension dropped away from Carl's body as his shoulders loosened and his posture relaxed, arching towards Rick, eyes blown dark, mouth wet and parting open, desire flooding into his scent until it washed everything else out.

"Do you want to kiss?" Rick asked, cautious.

Carl nodded eagerly and bent down, pressing his mouth against Rick's, tongue immediately pressing forward in a slick move that was probably all Daryl's doing. Rick let Carl in, let him suck on his tongue and bite at his lower lip. Rick was definitely more out of practice than Carl was, feeling dizzy just at the feeling of soft lips and the way Carl ate at his mouth with small hitching moans.

Carl lifted up, swinging a leg over to straddle Rick, movements eager but careful. He leaned back in to nose at the corner of Rick's jaw. "You smell so good," Carl whispered, burying his face in Rick's neck. Rick nuzzled in too, breathing in deep. "What do I smell like?" Carl asked.

Rick pushed his face into Carl's neck and took another heady breath, pretending to consider. "Well, right now, you mostly smell like chocolate pudding."

" _Dad_ ," Carl protested, pulling at his hair.

"Good, Carl," Rick sighed, "you smell real good, okay?"

Carl made a happy noise low in his throat and pressed closer, hips hitching against Rick. He was marking Rick up everywhere with hot, sticky trails: the wet tip of his stiff cock dragging against Rick's belly, his slick leaking from him where Rick's cock bumped up against his ass, more slick wetting his thighs where they pressed against Rick's hips. Rick groaned, trying hard to maintain his rapidly slipping control.

"How far did you and Daryl get?" Rick asked a little wildly.

"We made out, mostly," Carl said, keeping up the restless movement of his hips. "And, you know, playmating, so I came in my pants a lot. One time, just before we left the prison, he let me, um. He let me knot in his mouth. Don't be mad," Carl said quickly, "don't be mad at him, I was the one begging him to give me more for months. And he wouldn't even let me help him out afterwards."

Rick swallowed hard. "I've seen you all over him a few times," he said, looking at Carl's reddened face. "He's always whispering something to you. What does he say while you two are, uh."

"Mostly he's just complimenting me. Telling me I smell sweet. He tells me that he's gonna take care of me," Carl said. His scent spiked hard, and he started grinding down harder. "That he's gonna make me feel good. F-Fill me up. That I look so good when I'm under him. And that I'm gonna look even better on his knot."

Rick huffed a little in strained laughter. "Shoulda known he'd have a mouth like that on him."

"Yeah, he's a fuckin' tease," Carl muttered.

"Language," Rick said automatically.

Carl rolled his eyes, a full-body movement that, halfway through, turned into a deliberate thrust. And then another. And another, until he was panting, eyes squeezed shut so tightly he looked like he was in pain, rubbing himself so desperately against Rick's body that the whole bed jolted on its feet. Steeling himself, Rick stroked his hand all the way down Carl's back, over the curve of his ass, to test his rim with the pad of one finger.

"Ngh," Carl said, hiding his face in Rick's shoulder and pushing back, lifting his hips to make the angle less awkward. "More."

Rick pressed the finger in, and Carl was already so wet and open that he curled another one inside with no effort. "God, you feel good," Rick muttered helplessly.

"Da...nngh," Carl cried out, cutting off whatever he was going to say with a groan.

Oh. "You can think about Daryl, call out his name if you want," Rick said.

"I'm not," Carl panted, "I just don't want to freak you out. If I say your name."

"I won't freak out," Rick promised, both to Carl and to himself.

Carl moaned at that, hips rocking in erratic circles, trying to fuck himself deeper on Rick's fingers. "Dad," he murmured, "Dad, Dad, Dad, _Dad. More_."

Rick eased another finger in, stunned at how easily Carl was taking it. "You're doing so well," he hushed into his ear, spreading his fingers to make room for a fourth, and Carl melted against him with a heaving sob, letting Rick screw his fingers as far as they could go, before he shoved himself upright and started shuffling backwards.

"I need it," Carl gulped, trying to line himself up with Rick's cock, "I can't wait anymore, now now now—"

Rick held himself steady, watching as Carl's mouth dropped open on a moan when the head of Rick's cock found purchase and sank inside him. He worked himself up and down, taking Rick inch by inch into his slick-wet heat. Rick grabbed Carl's ass with both hands when he was fully seated, held on as Carl dropped forward to prop his arms on either side of Rick's head and _rode_ him, open-mouthed and greedy for it.

Rick didn't notice as his ragged, pained wheezing faded away to labored panting, as his lung healed to let him take full breaths, as his fever turned into something that sharpened his focus instead of deadening it, as his strength returned with every broken moan he fucked out of Carl.

Instead, Rick reached down and squeezed his fingers around Carl's little omega knot, listening to Carl cry out. It was nowhere near as big as Rick's knot was going to be, but it was a sweet little handful. Rick pulled and milked at it, wringing desperate noises from Carl as he worked himself down on Rick's cock. "So good," Rick rasped, reveling in Carl's happy shiver.

"Dad," Carl begged. "Are you—can I turn over yet? Please?"

"Yeah," Rick said, "yeah, _fuck_ , show me."

Carl scrambled off Rick's cock and onto his hands and knees next to him, hips jerking up eagerly to present. Rick moved behind him as quickly as he dared, body complaining as new skin pulled over his wounds with the movement. Carl's ass was red where Rick's fingers had been gripping it, his hole pink and wet, messy, _used_ , his thighs wet and slippery with his slick.

"You look so good," Rick growled, leaning down, and set his teeth in one cheek, soaking up the broken noise Carl made.

"Please," Carl whined, " _please_ , Dad."

Rick dragged his tongue up Carl's thighs, licking up all the slick he could in slow, broad swathes, having to retrace his path when more slick slid out of his hole in frantic twitches. Carl tried to hold back his high-pitched whining the entire time. Finally, Rick pushed the flat of his tongue against Carl's crease and dragged it upwards, tasting him there with a groan. Carl cried out and arched his back harder, trying to chase after the pressure. Rick pointed his tongue and ran it as lightly as he could around the rim of his opening, teasing for long moments while Carl sobbed, before he pushed it in all at once. Carl spasmed hard with a cry, spreading his knees wider, trying to open himself up more for Rick's relentless tongue as it stabbed in and out of him, back arching harder and hips hitching up like he was trying to mate with Rick's mouth.

"Please," Carl whined, his thick scent filling the room, climbing higher, about to peak, " _please_ —"

Rick pulled away.

" _Noooo_ ," Carl wailed, and Rick breathed a laugh into his omega's skin, licking up the line of his spine.

There was a sudden knock on the door, and Rick tensed hard above Carl, snarling at the alpha he could smell outside the room.

"Carl," the intruder alpha said through the door, voice full of steel. "Are you all right?"

"I'm all right! I'm good," Carl called out. Rick shoved his tongue back in, demanding his omega's attention. " _Fuck_ , I'm good, I promise, so good, oh _god_ Dad—"

There was a long pause, followed by the _snikt_ sound of a sword dropping back into its sheath. The sound of footsteps faded down the hallway. Rick ignored it all, focused on coring his omega open with his tongue. He scissored two fingers into him, held him open so he could try to go deeper, try to chase down more of his taste, his beard wet with slick now and rubbing at his omega's skin until it was pink and sensitive.

"Dad," his omega panted brokenly, "Dad, please, just _do it_."

The alpha surged up, pressing against his omega's back with a chest-deep rumble. He rubbed the length of his cock along his omega's wet crease, teasing still, biting gently at the neck bared in front of him and listening to desperate pleas for more. He grabbed his heavy cock and rubbed the head around his omega's twitching, hungry hole, getting everything wet and ready again, snugging right up against where he wanted it most before growling a question.

"Yes, I want it!" his omega yelped, and sobbed in relief when the alpha pressed his cock slowly into him.

The fucking had been good before, when his omega was on top, but it couldn’t compare to the searing full-body burn of having his omega present himself for his alpha, ass in the air, desperate and willing and aching for it. It was so much better now that he had his omega beneath him, opening up around his cock, shoving his hips back to get more, gasping in short, breathless _uh, uh, uh_ noises as the alpha rutted into him in a brutal, steady rhythm. His omega scrabbled at one of the alpha's hands gripping his hips, and the alpha obligingly dropped it to wrap his fingers around his omega's wet cock. He paid special attention to that bump of a knot, wringing the pleasure from it in strong pulls while he pushed forward in short grinding thrusts with his hips. He felt the knot at the base of his own cock start to pulse and fill, pulling at the rim, until his sweet little omega finally came in a wordless cry and a burst of wet heat onto the sheets below.

The alpha pushed in one final time with a growl that turned into frantic whimpers as his knot swelled to its full girth. He came in endless, shaking pulses inside his omega, bearing them both down to the bed until they were laid out flat on the mattress. Eventually they both shuddered to a halt, panting in huge breaths, completely spent. The alpha breathed in the sweet scent of his omega, gloating at how happy he smelled.

"Oof," his omega said quietly.

Suddenly contrite, the alpha turned their bodies to lie on their sides, taking care to keep them connected. He curled his body around his omega protectively, arms folding around him, and snuffled into his neck. He enjoyed the way the body in his arms arched into the contact, tugging at his knot. The alpha dragged his fingers through the come on his omega's belly and held them up for his omega to lap at. He gathered up more on his fingers and sucked them into his own mouth, three at once, and it was with the bitter, salty taste of Carl in his mouth and the sweet smell of him in his lungs that Rick suddenly surfaced out of the alpha fog and snapped back into his own head.

"Welcome back," Carl said.

"God," Rick said, panicking, "Oh god oh god—"

"You didn't hurt me, it was just what I wanted, I still want it, please don't stop," Carl rattled off, rapid-fire. "please don't stop," he said again in a small voice.

Rick tried to slow his breathing, taking stock of Carl's scent: no pain or distress, just satisfaction. "You're sure you're okay?" he asked, needing to be certain.

"Yes, I swear. You took care of me like a perfect gentleman."

Rick knew that wasn't quite true, but he let it slide. "Well. I still have some healing left to do, but I don't think I'll lose control like that again," Rick said. He pretended not to notice Carl's disappointment.

They dozed while they waited for Rick's knot to go down, conserving their energy. When they separated, Rick insisted on a quick food and water break before letting Carl descend on him again like he was starving.

At one point in the night, Rick woke up to the overpowering scent of Carl, desperate and wide-eyed, waiting while his thighs ran wet with his slick again. "You should've just woken me up, how long have you been like that," Rick murmured, reaching for him, alert and ready again in no time at all.

Rick lost track of how many times they fucked, how many times he knotted Carl while his scent filled the room like a physical presence. He barely noticed when the door opened and a boot shoved a ragged plastic bag full of food and water into the room before quickly retreating. When Carl was too sore to be knotted again even though he whined and begged for it, Rick let him fuck his mouth while he petted at his wet hole with his fingers. Carl's omega knot slipped easily in and out of the tight circle of Rick's lips, and he swallowed it down when Carl came with a series of high-pitched grunts.

By the end of the second day of Carl's heat, Rick's knot was so used it wouldn't swell all the way. He had to pop his half-blown knot past Carl's rim over and over again in oversensitive agony, then push a few fingers in alongside when Carl demanded to be filled up.

On the third day, Rick blinked his eyes open blearily to see Carl watching him, his gaze no longer dazed and heat-dumb.

"Your face is healed over," Carl said, breaking the silence. "Not so beat-up anymore."

"I wasn't looking my best for a while there, was I?" Rick said, trying hard to match Carl's laid-back tone.

"No, but your best isn't all that great either," Carl smirked. Rick growled and tried to lunge up to tickle him, and that's when they realized they were stuck to each other and to the sheets, crusty and flaking everywhere, disgusting beyond belief.

They used the last clean set of blankets and a little of the water to clean up as much as they could before they put their clothes back on. Rick did a quick check of his injuries, pleased to find his fever gone, all his limbs fully intact, and his chest no longer perforated by bullet holes. The bandage had fallen off his right hand at some point, no longer needed: the skin was unbroken, only a faint pale mark interrupting the lines of his palm.

He was starving, but his body was whole again. Carl was clear-eyed and unhurt, if probably a little sore, his first heat behind him.

Rick paused with a hand on the doorknob. "Was it okay for you?" he asked, hoarse, looking straight ahead.

"It was good, Dad," Carl said, hushed, leaning into Rick. "You made it good for me."

Rick let himself feel that measure of relief. Slowly, telegraphing his moves and giving Carl the chance to move away, he curled a hand around the back of his neck. Carl pressed closer, taking the comfort he offered. Then they opened the door and walked out together.


End file.
